


go on and light a cigarette (set a fire in my head)

by ElasticElla



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: (set after the defenders' season one), Blasphemy, F/M, Post-Canon, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 05:27:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11914161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: “Forgive me Father for I have sinned, I do not know how many days it has been since my last confession,” Matt begins.There’s a whisper of cloth, and even if Elektra masks her heartbeat and breath, her body still gives her away.





	go on and light a cigarette (set a fire in my head)

**Author's Note:**

> title from halsey's trouble
> 
> all the thanks to andrea for a speedy beta <3

“Forgive me Father for I have sinned, I do not know how many days it has been since my last confession,” Matt begins.

There is no one on the other side of the confessional booth; the Sisters are working in the gardens and by the river. Father Lantom is a world away, and to be true, it is him Matt thinks of when he speaks. Of what Lantom would say about him letting New York believe him dead, even if only for a moment. (Greedy, selfish, terrible-)

There’s a whisper of cloth, and even if Elektra masks her heartbeat and breath, her body still gives her away.

“I thought you were taking a bath,” he says, and it comes out too husky, not even close to a chastisement.

Two droplets fall as if on cue, plop against the wooden floor and Elektra slips into his lap. Still slightly damp, warm water seeps into his borrowed clothes everywhere she touches. No towel- she walked naked across the church and it shouldn’t send a shiver down his back.

“I did,” she says simply.

Matt’s hands fist at his sides, this wasn’t the time for-   
(But she’s _here_ another piece of him whispers, this would always be their time.)

Elektra’s fingers push through his hair, her lips press kisses up his jaw, slowly reach his ear so she can whisper: “Confession is good for the soul, Matthew.”

He lets out a choked laugh, “As long as you’re in here, I’ll never finish confessing.”

She leans back, and he can’t feel her lips anymore, but he _knows_ she’s smiling. “I don’t mind.”

His hands move up to grip her bare hips, about to stand, “My room.”

Elektra shifts her weight, knees sliding off him to pin him to the bench. “No. I want you _here_.”

“Why?” tumbles out of his mouth before the rest can.

Her fingers dip down to his neck, nails scraping at his skin unevenly. One’s a bit shorter, another too short to reach his skin, and the other two as they were before- long and oval.

“You’ve only been awake a day, Matthew, the nuns weren’t even sure-” Her words break off sharply, fingers tensing.

Matt waits, thumbs over her hipbones.

The words rush out, her pulse speeding. “If your God is here, I want him to know you are _mine_.”

“Elektra,” he whispers, tone caught between blasphemy and reproach.

“He’s not allowed to take you from me.”

Her hands are moving, and he’s too caught up in the declaration to realize that she’s already unbuttoned his shirt and slacks.

It’s the darkness in him that jumps wherever her hands go next, not in spite of their location but in part because of it. It’s the moment when he decided to toss the glass, high-pitched shattering perfectly paired with _we belong together_. And his heart is weightless as it was then, for only the briefest space, a true moment before it too shattered.

( _I thought you understood me_ , he said once and he meant it. But he killed Nobu, he _killed_.)

((She isn’t always right, but she’s always right about him.))

Elektra tastes overwhelmingly of the nectarines that the nuns grow in their greenhouse. He kisses her deeper, and there’s a cigarette’s echo, faint traces of it on her back gums. She feels his discovery, breaks off their kiss with a soft huff.

“You quit,” he says.

“You used to enjoy listening to me smoke,” she says, and he can hear her smirk.

The memories come quick: surrounding heartbeats quickening, Elektra’s every breath weighted, more permanent sounding. It was a tease to know exactly where her lips were at any moment, punctuated as she toyed with a cigarette. As she offered, an indirect kiss more addictive than any nicotine.

“You’re not allowed to leave me either,” Matt says.

She doesn’t say that a blade will claim her life long before a cancer might even attempt to grow in her lungs. She doesn’t say that she’s the Black Sky, will always find a way back but the Devil is mortal.

Elektra kisses him, says instead, “I’m here.”

Matt’s hands rush at her words, he can’t be still anymore. He needs to feel all of her, to have her body memorized as he once did, to know if anything has changed. His fingers trip over the back of her knee, an unexpected place with a crooked scar.

“One of Alexandra’s minions was sent to wake me, I wasn’t sleeping lightly enough in the beginning.” His fingers clench, and she adds, “I killed her too quickly.”

His first thought is to agree, a sick twist in his stomach.

“It’s the only new one,” she says, because of course she knows what he’s doing.

His hands finish remapping her body slow, and her skin’s nearly dry as he palms down her soles. They come back up with new purpose, skim up the insides of her calves and come around to her thighs.

“Good,” he says, kisses her before she can coyly ask to which statement he’s referring to. Her teeth come out instead, nip his lower lip, and he groans, hips jerking up to meet hers.

It isn’t corruption, or perhaps the corruption is long complete. He isn’t insisting they leave the church or even confessional; he doesn’t even feel guilty right now. (Did he feel it tossing that glass? Did he feel it killing another man? Or is all his guilt performative, after the fact repentance?)

He can smell her wetness, their chests pressing together as he pulls her in closer. He kisses her shoulder, her silky hair tickling him.

“Take me,” he whispers, half pleading half idolic worship.

Elektra sighs happily, practically purrs, shoving down his pants and boxers just enough to expose him. He feels even more trapped than before like this, his pulse tripling at the thought.

Her hand drags up his erection once, and then she sits, tight wet warmth all around him.

“Elektra,” he moans, sensations overwhelming and her teeth sharply bite into his neck.

“Mine,” she claims, and Matt can only groan his agreement. He already knows he isn’t going to last long, feels too good to even be embarrassed about such a thing. He’ll get on his knees after and eat Elektra out until she screams, until-

A flower pot smashes to the hardwood floor by the pews- he can’t believe neither of them noticed the smallest nun returning inside- and everything slams into him again: the confessional, Elektra, them being alive, together. And Matt comes, biting his own lip to keep quiet.

Elektra’s laugh is soft against his ear, happy. “Shall we continue in your rooms Matthew?”

He smiles, buttoning up his shirt. “I’ll meet you there.”

The nun doesn’t gasp when Elektra leaves, a whisper of cloth, and Matt loses track of her escape. There’s a soft exhale once she gets to his room, isn’t quiet about throwing herself on the bed, and she says, “Get me.”

Matt smiles, finishes straightening out his clothes. “Forgive me Father, for I am about to sin…”


End file.
